Enlightenment of a Dark Gift
by The Happy Heathen
Summary: Born with a terrible magic, sort after by the Dark Lord, Saoirse Crane, has just spent two years in an asylum, after murdering her parents. She's only been allowed back to Hogwarts, because of Dumbledore's patronage. Everyone is afraid of her, but will her old ally, Sirius Black, ignite something to change the course of fate? Or will the darkness win? This is very much an M story.
1. Prologue

_Hello there. So, as many, many are, I'm a big fan of Harry Potter, but I've always felt an affinity to Sirius Black. I hate that he died, and I always used to come up with stories...but none were ever quite right. So this now, is my story, of the character I've always had in my head, the one who'd be with Sirius Black. This is not to say he will live. And it will most likely be a 2 - 3 part story. I will post the 1st Chapter tomorrow night so, please read and hopefully enjoy. I will endeavour to post as frequently as possible. Please review as much as you feel able, I thrive off knowing what you think of my stories, but please, no flames._

 _So, enjoy this taster, review, and if you like it, look out for chapter one tomorrow!_

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Prologue

(Two Years Ago…)

Blood. There was so much blood. It was everywhere; splashed all over the walls, dripping from the ceiling, and pooling inches deep beneath my feet, soaking the thick Persian carpet deep, dark crimson. I can't escape it. The smell…so cloying and metallic. I'm gagging again, but nothing comes out; I've already thrown up everything left in my stomach. The bodies of my parents lie before me…well, my father's does. My mother, she's more…scattered about the room, in pieces.

Their blood is all over me.

Because I'm the one who murdered them.

Someone's screaming. It's awful, a barely human, heart wrenching sound of pure torment.

It's not till my throat begins to feel like it's being torn to shreds, that I realise I'm the one who's screaming.

Something in me broke that night.

Everything after that is a blur. I have a vague recollection of Moira, the family maid and the woman who practically raised me, helping me into the shower, washing my parent's blood from my skin. I don't remember if she was shocked or not, just that she helped me, held me, stroked my hair until the Aurors came and took me away.

Moira must have testified in my favour, told them what truly happened, the reason why I snapped and killed my mother and father (and since witnesses are always interrogated with a truth potion in their system, there's never any doubt the witness is being truthful). I'm not sent to wherever they send juveniles one day destined for Azkaban. No, instead, they send me to a really decent Asylum, far better than I deserve.

They help me, heal me as best they can…which is to say, enough for me to function in society without breaking down into a crazed – and dangerous – panic attack. They help me learn to control my…unique powers.

It's such a great facility, they even keep my education up, so I won't be behind when I return to Hogwarts.

But I can't stop dreaming about the blood. Can't stop smelling it, like it's a permanent fixture in my nose – and whenever I close my eyes, I don't see black.

I see that deep, dark crimson.

Dripping behind my eyelids, until it's a waterfall of scarlet brutality.

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 _Please review and let me know what you think and look for the next post tomorrow!_


	2. Chapter 1

_So here, as promised, is the first chapter, which has much more content. I hope you enjoy it, and, as always please do review as much as you like, I welcome all but flames._

 _Oh, and just to be clear..._

 _Saoirse is pronounced: Ser - Sher_

 _Ok enjoy!_

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Chapter One

...

(Present Day)

I jerk awake, barely holding back the scream. Somehow, _somehow,_ I manage to. Can't go scaring my roommates – again.

I'm sweating, even though it's October, and my heart's jackhammering like crazy. I shove damp curls off my forehead, and peak outside my heavy canopy curtains. It's still dark. Like usual. I always wake up at some crazy hour, rarely ever getting more than four hours sleep; and I always wake from a nightmare.

It's better when I wake up earlier than my other Ravenclaw roommates. I know they're afraid of me. I hate it, but I understand. I'm afraid of me too. So I sneak from my bed as quietly as possible, though Mildred's snores are loud enough to cover any noise I might make (honestly, it's a wonder any of us can sleep through that racket). Even so, I tiptoe into the bathroom and close the door with a soft click. My reflection is of someone I barely recognise anymore.

I'm too thin these days, the near constant anxiety steals my appetite most days, clogging my throat and turning the taste of any food I can get past it to dust. A few days ago, some girl in the year above asked me what my diet was, dying to know how I keep so thin. I told her it was the near constant fear that'd I'd lose my shit and accidentally slaughter someone. Watching her realise I wasn't joking was sort of satisfying.

My black curls are tangled and riotously wild, I've never been able to fully tame them…my mother used to hate them, so unlike her sleek, dead straight, glossy locks. Same colour though. I have her eyes too, mossy green and tilting almond shaped. But whereas hers were narrow slits, mine are too big for my face, looking deceptively innocent. In fact, the almond tilt to my eyes is the only facial feature I gained from my mother. Her face was thin and sharp, and even loosing all the weight I have, my cheek bones are still more apple than razor, my nose is small and tilted up, and my lips are small but plump and well shaped. Beauty's in the eyes of the beholder, I get that, but I don't mind the way I look I guess. I just don't really know who the girl in my reflection is anymore.

I move through my morning routine with numb practice, using my special conditioner potion to help turn my rat nest of curls into something half-way manageable. I dress, line my eyes with kohl, and twist my hair into a loose, messy bun, grab the books, quills and ink I'll need for the day, and slip from the dorms just as Mildred's snore begin to tapper off.

Today's not too bad. My anxiety is a low hum in my chest, a whisper at the back of my mind; bearable. The calming blue and silver common room is empty, the blue tinged fire just a pile of smouldering embers. Dawn light is beginning to spill through the windows, so it won't be long before everyone's up. I aim to get to the Great Hall while it's still mostly devoid of life.

I like Hogwarts at this time, before the hallways are full of noisy, chatty students, who's eyes grow wide and nervous when they pass me by. I'm used to it, even after only being back for three weeks. I don't blame them for it. I'm the crazy chick who killed both her parents and spent the last two years in the looney bin; I'd avoid me too, if I could.

My appetite is decent today, so when I get to the Great Hall, I practically shovel food into my mouth. Scrambled eggs, sausages, hash browns, porridge with berries, plus some refreshing orange juice and a cup of tea. I sigh in relief that a panic attack didn't hit halfway through, like it sometimes does. Even if I'm a tad too full, it's better than feeling the usual empty ache in my gut.

The Great Hall's just beginning to fill with students, so I shoulder my satchel and hightail it on out of there. I've still got another hour before my first class, so I escape to the library. I love the library, it's my favourite place in the whole castle. Sometime during my second year here, I found this little nook, a tiny little tower room, just off from the main library. The door is hidden behind a bookcase, and you can only reach it if you're midget sized, like me. Inside, three of the walls house floor to ceiling bookcases, overflowing with old tomes and scrolls, while the fourth wall has an arches window. There's an old, stuffed armchair in fading red velvet, and an unstable side table, where a single candle rests, held there only by years worth of a knobbly puddle of wax, sticking it firmly to the table. I put it there myself.

Pale post-dawn light filters into the room, turning it rosy pink. It's Friday, so I riffle through my bag to find the book I'll be needing for my first class (Defence against the Dark Arts) to re-read the chapter we'll be covering today, and settle into the armchair with a contented sigh. This place is safe. It's private and hidden, far away from the frightened whispers and nervous stares.

Defence against the Dark Arts is my second favourite class, my first being Herbology. I've become obsessed with arming myself with as much information as possible, so that I'll never be helpless to those who use Dark Magic to enslave, torture and kill the innocent. Never again.

The only down side is that we share this class with the sixth year Gryffindors. Which means every Monday morning, I have to sit in the same room as Sirius Black.

Words cannot even begin to describe the complications of our relationship.

Kindred spirits…or so I thought. Both born into the wrong family. We've always been drawn to each other like moths to a flame; a very, _very,_ dangerous flame.

From my earliest memories, the Blacks have been a part of my life, along with many other families who, all support, the Dark Lord.

But not us. Never me and Sirius.

I thought I'd found an ally in Black.

And then, _that_ night happened.

I have no idea what he thinks of me killing my parents, we haven't spoke one word to each other since I came back. But from the sneer he shoots my way whenever our eyes accidentally meet, I'd say he doesn't think much of me anymore. He probably now thinks I'm just as evil as they were.

And fuck if that doesn't hurt. More than I'd ever be willing to admit.

The hour goes too quick, and all too soon, I'm having to haul ass to get to my lesson on time. I turn the last corner and – oomph!

I slam into a bloody wall of muscle. A large hand shoots out, catching me as I fall back.

Saoirse: "Shit, sorry, I –"

My voice trails off when my green eyes clash with the stormy grey eyes of Sirius, bloody, Black. Wonderful. He's looking at me like I'm dirt. But at least he's kind enough not to drop me on my ass; what a bloody saint. I swallow hard and find my balance, gentling tugging my arm to let him know he can let go now.

Saoirse: "Thanks."

My heartbeat jolts as he leans in, his dark eyes taking on a menacing glare. I hate that my heart flips in this moment. I fucking hate it. So, I squash it to nothing, I ignore it. as best I can, and just meet his glare, with a sick heart.

Sirius: "Watch where you're going next time."

He turns away without waiting for my response, and saunters over to his little posy of friends. I slouch against the wall with a huff of irritation. Today's shaping up to be a real humdinger.

We file in when Professor Grimshaw opens the door, and I take my seat at the very back. No one takes the risk of sitting next to me.

I like Professor Grimshaw. Most of my teacher look at me with either disgust or abject fear; it's only a handful which don't. He's one of them. He's an ex-aura, with dark mahogany skin and wispy white hair, sticking out at all angles. Most student underestimate him, thinking him just some washed up old kook. But I know better. His eyes are caerulean blue, and sharp as a whippet, he knows every defensive spell under the sun, and his track record for catching death eaters is unrivalled. I know, because his name was spoken like a forbidden poison in my household growing up.

He killed my uncle, a man who leered my way far too often.

He imprisoned my twin cousins in Azkaban, sparing me from being forcibly betrothed to either of them.

And he was there, that night. The night I killed my parents.

He was the one who cleared my name, and convinced the courts that what I'd done, was done in entirely justified self-defence. It cost him his career, I know that now. But he says he'll never regret defending me.

Without him, Moira and Dumbledore, I'd be as good as screwed, for life. I'd have no future, let along my freedom. I owe them everything.

I really hope that whole Defence against the Dark Arts curse doesn't befall him…

He's one of my only true allies left.

Professor Grimshaw: "Good day, dear students oh mine. I dare say today's lesson will be, a tad troubling for some, but hopefully, enlightening for most of you."

Wise, cobalt eyes land on mine, and we share a grim smile. Yeah, both he and I already know this particular lesson will be difficult for me.

Professor Grimshaw: "Alright. I've decided to mix things up today. You'll all need to partner up, _but!_ Todaaaay, fate will choose your partner."

This isn't the first time he's done this. The last time he did this, I was paired with Lilly Evans. We actually got on really well; she was fearless of me, and we got on like a house on fire. It was me who forced whatever fragile friendship might've formed, to fade to nothing. She's a good person and I like her – so I refuse to risk her safety. Because, I can't guarantee it, where I'm concerned.

We all write our names onto a small strip of parchment, and throw it into Professor Grimshaw's trademark, sleek, black top hat. Oh, did I forget to mention he nearly always dresses like a Victorian gentleman? Another thing I love about Grimshaw.

I'm not really paying attention as he calls out the pairs. I'm a little disappointed when I hear Lily's being paired up with James Potter – though that's nothing compared to the intense displeasure I notice fume in her green eyes. I can't help but chuckle, and she even meets my eyes with an exaggerated eyeroll Potter's way – yeah, despite my efforts, she's still trying to keep the whole friendship door open between us, and something weak in me, just can't quite shut it down.

And then I hear who I'm paired with…and something in me shrivels a little.

Professor Grimshaw: "Saoirse Crane, aaaaand…Sirius Black!"

My stomach drops out from under me.

Please…not him. Anyone but him.

I can survive everyone else looking at me like I'm evil incarnate…just…not him.

I feel sick as our eyes meet, and I see the abject disdain radiating in those grey depth. I fully expect him to refuse to work with me, but to my eternal surprise, and apparently to those around him, he gathers up his shit, and stalks over to my table.

I've always thought of him like a force of nature. Impossible to ignore.

But so am I, these days.

So, I refuse to cower beneath his heated glare. And I shove down my beating heart, and all the memories of his secret smiles, his collaborative friendship we somehow found in the tar pit of evil we both grew up in.

A feeble friendship.

Now lost.

I swallow down my feelings as Black slides into the seat beside me, trying so hard to look bored (but I know him. I can see the anger simmering just beneath the surface).

But he sits down beside me, with all that aloof nonchalance that wets the girl's panties. But when our eyes meet…

It's still there, like it always has been with us.

Fireworks. The kind of spark which gets your heart racing and makes your palms clammy.

I'm surprised our combined glares don't singe the space between, as electric tension radiates around us, till I'm fairly certain the air's crackling with it.

Sirius: "Crane."

Saoirse: "Black."

He's enormous, one of the tallest boys in our year, and already bulging with lean muscle from quidditch and…other 'activities'.

Professor Grimshaw: "Now, today we're going to practice duelling, but, with certain…advanced spells, hexes. Reversable ones, of course, but I feel the need to prepare you, this won't be pleasant. However, I feel it necessary as no true duel will ever be pleasant, and in these…trying times, I won't send you out there without due preparation. Even so, this is not mandatory. If any of you feel as though you can't handle today's lesson, I give you full freedom to leave now, with no consequences."

A couple of the less adapt, or just plain lazy, students leave, but the majority remain. Sirius is firmly glued to his seat, and looks entirely too pleased to have the chance to hex me.

Professor Grimshaw flicks his wand over a stack of parchments, sending them flying out to each table.

Professor Grimshaw: "Here is your list of hexes, we've covered them already, so I know you know them well. However, I've not added the defensive spells, those you'll have to remember on your own."

There's a wicked twinkle in his eyes as he surveys the students, enjoying watching some of them squirm. Suddenly, with another twitch of his wand, the tables lift crowd against the walls, and in the next second we're forced to jump up as our chairs and bags join them, leaving enough space for us to train. He sweeps his hands around the room, before lifting them with a flourish.

Professor Grimshaw: "So, find a space, and…begin!"

Black doesn't wait for me or even bother asking me where I want to duel. He just saunters over to a dark corner, away from the others. I follow, muttering curses under my breath. He turns me and we face each other, a few feet apart. There's a sinful smirk on his face and dark mischief in his eyes; I'm going to enjoy wiping that smirk clean off his stupid, handsome face.

Sirius: "Ready for me, Crane?"

I roll my shoulders and allow my lips to tilt into a nasty sneer.

Saoirse: "Say goodbye to your pretty face, Black."

He has the audacity to throw back his head and laugh, before striking, lightning fast. Purple sparks power towards me, but I'm already there, batting it away with a complicated series of wand manoeuvres. I seamlessly spin and flow into a hex of my own, one which will cover his face in ugly boils. The grin on Black's face is wicked sharp, as he counters it and returns fire. Back and forth, strike after strike, we dance and parry, moving as one continuous flow.

This isn't our first time.

Growing up, we used to sneak off and practice duelling, dreaming that one day, we'd stand together against our parents, take them down and send them to die in Azkaban. So, I know all his weak points, and he knows all of mine. We're equally matched and frighteningly competent, and we never hold back.

The sounds of students screaming and moaning as they get hit, fades away as we fight. It's vicious and beautiful, and an ache forms in my chest at the nostalgia of it all. Maybe that's what causes my misstep. His hex hits me in the shoulder and sends me slamming back against the wall. I crumple to the ground, my ears ringing, blinking as the room spins, making me dizzy. I hear footsteps hurry over and suddenly Black's crouched before me, pressing his wand to my shoulder and muttering the counter spell. I don't have a clue what he hit me with, but it hurts like hell. It feels like my flesh is boiling, and if I weren't so out of it, I'd scream. Mercifully though, the pain soon fades, and I slump against the wall, panting as sweat pricks over my forehead, and the room finally comes back into focus. Black's face swims before my eyes. He's frowning slightly, and I see concern flicker before he clamps it down, his mouth twisting in a grimace.

Black: "You good to continue? Or are you gonna pussy out like a little bitch?"

I snarl and shove him, but it's like pushing against a boulder. He chuckles darkly and grabs my arm, hauling me to my feet. I wrench it free and right my robes, before marching back to our spot.

Saoirse: "Shut up and enjoy that lucky shot you just got in; it'll be your fucking last."

Sirius ambles back over and shoots me a grin full of malice, and then we're at it again. He doesn't get another shot in, but neither do I, much to my displeasure, and all too soon, the lesson's coming to an end. We're both winded and sweaty, but I'm full of sizzling energy and adrenaline. Sirius' expression shutters when I meet his eyes, not betraying a single emotion, save for his usual faint disdain.

Fine, whatever.

Students grab their things, and I shoulder my bag, preparing to leave, but Professor Grimshaw calls me and Black over.

Professor Grimshaw: "That was really _quite_ something to behold. Ten points, to each of your houses. I wonder, could I possibly ask you to demonstrate that to my fourth year class, next Wednesday? It would serve to set a high standard for them to adhere to."

Black and I share a look, and I can tell that's the last thing he wants to spend his Wednesday doing, but, I can also see that spark in his eyes, the one which tells me he was just as exhilarated by that duel as I was.

Professor Grimshaw: "There'll be an extra ten points in it, if you decide to do this."

Sirius holds my gaze for a moment longer, before turning on his most charming smile, and looking to Grimshaw.

Sirius: "I'm in if Crane is."

I smile faintly at the enthusiastic Professor, and nod.

Saoirse: "Sure, I'd be happy to."

Professor Grimshaw claps his hands together with a bark of delight.

Professor Grimshaw: "Excellent! Be here next Wednesday at third period. Don't worry, I'll clear it with your relevant Professors."

He claps us both on the shoulder before disappearing into his office with a wave.

Saoirse: "I'm surprised you'd agree. I would've thought you'd want to spend as little time with me as possible."

Sirius's amiable grin turns nasty.

Sirius: "Believe me, I do. But how could I pass up the chance not knock you on your midget ass again?"

I scoff and spin away from him, heading out into the hallway, when he mutters something under his breath which makes my blood run cold.

Sirius: "You thoroughly deserve it, after all."

I stop dead in my tracks, a fissure of pain shafting through my chest.

Saoirse: "You never even considered it, did you?"

I don't turn to him and it's spoken under my breath, so for a moment I don't think he heard me. But he did. Of course he did.

Sirius: "Considered what?" He spits back.

I shove my satchel higher up my shoulder, and spin to him, fixing him with a seething glare.

Saoirse: "The reason why I did what I did. You never even thought, that if put in the same position I was put in that night, you just might've done the same thing."

I barely stay to watch his jaw slacken – I'm too fucking angry. I storm away from him, leaving his stupid, high-horsed ass in my wake. When I reach the corner, I pause, and turn back for one final blow. I barely speak above a whisper, but, I know he hears me.

Saoirse: "And if you didn't do the same as me, I'd hate you, for the rest of my life."

Sirius flinches, confusion seeping into those grey eyes of his, which, just seconds ago, were so sure in their condemnation. And I'm so done with it all, that I decide to really drive the nail home. My mossy green eyes meet his conflicted, stormy, oh so intense gaze, and I force our eyes to lock, when I speak my next words.

Saoirse: "You know, I thought, of all people, you'd understand. Or…at least be willing to."

Black pales a little, but I don't stay to hear whatever his response might be. Tear prick my eyes and my chest feels heavy, but I shove it all down and lift my chin; never let them see you weak, that seems to be my mother fucking motto these days.

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 _Let me know what you think, and I'll try to post as soon as possible. REVIEW! Please, it really helps my writing, and I fully appreciate all critique but flames._

 _What's to come in the next chapter..._

 _Saoirse struggles after her confrontation with Sirius._

 _Her unique gifts are revealed._

 _Old sparks flicker._

 _And a traitor hides in the shadows..._


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